


Bargain Brakes

by ccbgb



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Modern Thedas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-04-24 01:12:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4899829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ccbgb/pseuds/ccbgb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Solas's car needed new brakes and, being frugal, he went shopping for a better price then his usual mechanic. When he gets his car back from the slightly eccentric small auto shop down the road, however, he gets a bit more than he bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Solas pushed through the door of the auto repair shop, the bell tinkling above him and announcing his presence to the empty counter. In his hand he clutched a receipt from a mere ten minutes ago, wrinkled and faded. The shop seemed empty. He had just been here- a boy with blonde hair and a quiet voice had given him his keys only a few minutes ago. Solas’s anger bubbled under the surface of his skin as he impatiently dinged the counter bell. This was the last time he’d bargain hunt for car repair.

The door behind him opened, the bell ringing, and Solas looked behind him, hoping to see an employee. Instead there was a woman, her dress too fine to belong in the dusty little shop. She made no eye contact with him and proceeded to stand beside him at the counter. Solas grit his teeth. If she thought of cutting in line-

“Cole?” the woman called, looking into the back. Immediately the blonde boy appeared in one of the doorways, hat hanging over his eyes.

“Vivienne,” the boy said quietly, “Always on time, never unexpected. You want an oil change.”

“Yes, dear, and do make it quick,” she said, handing over her keys, “I have a dinner party at the Duke’s estate and I do not wish to be late.”

“Or have dirty oil and the light that comes with it. Half an hour.”

The woman nodded and strode out the door with a quick, “Thank you dear, and give my regards to the mechanic.”

The boy was about to head into the garage, keys in hand, but Solas would not have it- he had already watched a woman call out for the boy and immediately be rendered service. He had already been cut in front of while waiting patiently. He had already seen a woman come in and _not pay_ for the services they were providing. He would not stand here another minute without having the issue resolved.

“Pardon me, Cole, but if I might have a moment of your attention.”

The boy turned to him, eyes wide as if he hadn’t seen Solas until he spoke. He didn’t move to greet him or talk to him. Instead he stood there, hand on the doorknob for the garage, keys dangling from his fist.

“I recently picked up my car, not ten minutes ago,” Solas continued, “And as I went to sit down I noticed an abhorrent amount of grease stains on my upholstery. I would like to be compensated or refunded.”

Cole looked at him a moment, still not moving. “You’re angry,” he finally said.

Solas’s frown deepened. “And should I not be? I paid for quite an expensive service only to have my car returned to me in a worse state than I had left it.”

The boy still hadn’t moved.

“If you cannot help me I would like to speak to a manag-“

And then the boy was gone.

The noises in the garage paused. Solas waited and listened for footsteps. He wondered why he had bothered with this shop in the first place. The brick building looked like it had once been a gas station, its dirty white exterior chipping and cracked. The garage only seemed to fit perhaps two cars at a time. Yet he had been cheap, as always, and had seen their prices for brake pad replacement were more than a hundred dollars cheaper than the place he normally frequented. That would teach him to look for a bargain.

The door to the garage opened and out came a large, burly man, his beard and mustache combination hanging down to chest. Dirt and oil peppered the few patches of skin that showed on his face. He rubbed his hands on a disgustingly brown towel and walked to the counter.

“Boy said you wanted a manager?”

From the half-open door behind the man, Solas could see Cole peeking through and watching their exchange.

“Yes. I picked up my car and there are grease stains that were not there previous to dropping my car off at your,” he paused, grimacing, “establishment.”

“Knowing my boss, I doubt she’ll refund you. I could probably give you a coupon for a shampoo, though.”

Solas reeled from the callous response. “Excuse me?” he sputtered out, “You expect me to pay you to shampoo the upholstery that _you_ ruined?”

“Listen, it was probably an honest mistake. We could probably throw in a discount for your next time in-“

“I absolutely refuse.”

“Sir-“

Solas felt the heat rising to his face. He had not been so angry in some time. He looked at the doorway. The boy had vanished.

“Just what kind of shop are you running here?” Solas asked, venom dripping off each word, “Do you think I will be swindled so easily? Do not take me for a fool- If I do not receive compensation I will seek out the Better Business Bureau. If this is how you treat your paying customers-“

“Listen, sir, I understand your concern but-“

“Who worked on my car?”

“Sir, as much as I understand your concerns, I really don’t think-“

“If you will not give me reparations then I would like to speak to the bloody fool who worked on my car.”

The gruff man looked tired as he glanced back into the garage. Solas noticed that all noise had ceased from inside. The man seemed to catch someone’s eye and he nodded before turning back to Solas. Footsteps echoed on the cement, louder and louder as they neared the door. Solas clasped his hands behind his back, his pinky finger twitching.

The door opened and the man ducked into the back, stepping fast. A small woman pushed through the door to the garage, her clothes and skin completely covered in oil, grease, and dirt. She swiped her nearly black hand across her forehead, the sweat cleaning a streak to reveal amber skin, shining in comparison to the rest of her face. She walked to the counter, looking worn out, tired, and more than a little irked.

The woman leaned on the counter, staining its off-white top with the grime from her skin. She locked eyes with him and crossed her arms, slanting her body towards him.

“Is there a problem here, sir?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know if I'm continuing this. This was mostly just a stress reliever. But I'm going to keep it open- if a lot of people want to see more of it, maybe I'll keep going :)


	2. Chapter 2

“Yes,” Solas said, rubbing his temples, “Though your coworkers seem to disagree with me. Are you the mechanic who serviced my car?”

The woman nodded running a dirty hand through her brown hair. He did not dare think of the amount of grime caked on her scalp.

“What seems to be the problem with it? The Mitsubishi 3000GT, yeah?” she asked.

“That is correct. You seem to have left grease stains on the upholstery and I would like a refund but no one here seems qualified to give me one,” he spat.

“That’s because I’m the only one qualified to do that, sir,” the woman said, standing upright and stretching, “And I’m not going to. Sorry.”

“ _What?”_ He was in complete shock. Not only was she the owner (and why was he surprised? She looked as grubby as the shop did) but she was refusing to compensate for her mistake? The woman began walking back towards the garage door and Solas finally lost his cool.

Slamming his receipt down on the counter amidst the dust and dirt he roared, “I demand an explanation! Just what kind of establishment are you _running_ here?”

The woman froze with her hand on the doorknob, her hair hiding her face. Solas could feel his fingers twitching as he held the receipt against the counter. One of them would break. It would not be him.

She turned to face him and he felt the air leave his lungs. The intensity of her gaze, those bright eyes shining behind a face of dirt. He hadn’t been the subject of such a powerful look in some time and nearly regretted even bringing the stains up. He scrambled to regain his resolve, his composure but it was difficult- her confidence and anger had thrown him for a loop.

“Did you turn on your car?” she asked, voice low. No, he hadn’t, he realized, he had been too angry about the grease. He hadn’t even sat down. She almost shamed him but he remembered he was the paying customer and stood a little straighter.

“No. I saw the grease stains and immediately returned.”

The woman marched back to the counter and it took all of Solas’s willpower to stand his ground. She was an intimidating woman indeed. He suddenly understand the boy’s fearful reaction when he had realized Solas was upset.

“You paid for brake pad replacement. We obliged. Did a damn careful job, too,” she said, nearly growling, “I quite enjoy getting rare cars in my shop. I was very careful. When I got in your car to drive it back out to the parking lot I changed clothes.”

The woman was leaning on the counter again, her face a mere inches from his. Solas refused to flinch but could not help his shaking fingers which crinkled the receipt.

“When I turned the car on, what do I see but the battery light blinking orange? You hadn’t said anything to Cole about that when you came in so I decided to have a look. Strangely enough, your battery is less than 3 months old.”

His only thought was confusion. He hadn’t asked her to check that out- his regular mechanic had been trying to fix that for the past six months. Said something about wires being out of whack and the car getting old. What did this have to do with anything?

Her voice suddenly got softer, more exhausted than angry. “How many times have you been to the mechanic in the past year?”

She was leading him to some conclusion, he could feel it. His heart sank into his stomach as he realized what was happening.

“Five times.”

“For?”

He paused. Embarrassment? Frustration? He no longer could tell precisely what he felt towards this woman any longer. “The battery,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Well, bad news, sir. You’ve been getting robbed. Your battery is perfectly fine.”

The woman scratched the back of her head, breaking eye contact for the first time since he had yelled at her. Solas felt his body relax.

“Your mechanic replaced the alternator first and then the battery more than once. Am I right?”

She glanced up and Solas nodded stiffly.

“Your mechanic knows you don’t know anything about cars. Mitsubishi’s have this thing- third party alternators usually don’t work well, especially for a nice car like this. So he puts in a bottom of the line alternator and charges you for replacement. But it’s not just the alternator. You had an oil leak in the cam shaft that just caked the damn alternator.”

She looked at him and kept eye contact once more, raising an eyebrow.

“You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”

Solas shook his head ever so slightly. “I must admit, I do not.”

The woman sighed. “Alright. Basically. They put in a cheap part that is known to not work well knowing you’d come back, and completely ignored the fact that another part was leaking oil all over that cheap part. They knew you’d come back and they kept charging you to replace a part that wasn’t the problem.”

Solas nodded, unmoved. “How does this relate to grease on my upholstery?”

The woman frowned, her eyebrows wrinkling together. “I fixed the damn thing.”

He couldn’t keep his face neutral any longer. Frowning in confusion, he grabbed his receipt off the counter and double-checked it. There were no charges but the original charge for the brake pads.

“So you-“

“Fixed the cam shaft, changed the oil, and replaced your alternator with one that isn’t going to stop charging after six months.”

“But-“

“So yeah, I got some damn oil on the seat because I was a little rushed. I hadn’t factored in all the extra shit your mechanic left for me to clean up when I gave Cole your pick-up time. So I was a little sloppy,” she spat, her face contorted in anger once more.

“I-“ Solas said, searching for a way to apologize, “I didn’t realize-“

“You honestly think I would hurt a 3000GT on purpose? Maybe rich guys like you don’t know what they’re looking at besides something rare, but I respect that car more than some people.”

“Listen, I want to apolo-“

“Ugh, just go back to your other mechanic and cry. I’m sure they’ll charge you a thousand bucks to shampoo the interior and you wouldn’t even question it,” the woman muttered,walking away. She sounded drained, as if her reserve of anger had run dry.

“I’d like to buy a shampoo.”

The woman turned to him and raised an eyebrow. Solas pulled out his wallet and walked towards the register. She followed him, hesitantly, watching him the whole time. When he handed his card to her she reached out and paused. She brought her hand back and pulled out a dirty cloth from her back pocket, wiping her hands furiously on it before throwing it over her shoulder and accepting his card.

“You sure?” she asked, holding the card above the machine, eyeing him cautiously, “For someone who was threatening my staff with the BBB, you sure seem ok with the fact that I did things you didn’t authorize to your car. And yelled at you.”

“Indeed you did. Quite extensively,” Solas said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips, “But you also saved me from being swindled for who-knows-how-long while also not charging me for it.”

The woman swiped his card and shrugged, handing it back to him. “I’ll be quite honest with you. I just hated seeing the 3000GT in that deplorable of a state. I did it more for my peace of mind than yours.”

Solas chuckled and placed the card carefully back into his wallet. “And you just so happened to have the right kind of alternator for the job laying around your shop?”

“I’ve got connections,” she said, a smile finally warming her face.

Solas reached out his hand. She took it in hers firmly.

“I’m Solas, if there are to be introductions.”

“Stal.”

“A pleasure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Writes Mechanic AU  
> -DOESNT KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT CARS
> 
> My dad would be so proud of me for learning about cars and simultaneously so disappointed that I only did it because I'm elf-loving trash
> 
> Welcome to hell


	3. Chapter 3

The light in the little shop slowly turned orange. Shadows elongated on the walls, exaggerating every chip of paint, every fissure in the plaster. Solas struggled to keep his eyes open. A quick look at his Rolex told him it was nearly seven-thirty. He had been at the shop for nearly two hours and with no television or radio and his phone nearly dead, there was little to distract him as the minutes crept along.

Thank goodness he had no dinner plans. When he had imagined picking up his car he had envisioned a quick pick up, a test of the brakes, and then a quick half-hour commute home to heat up some leftovers and perhaps work on his latest piece. The article wasn’t due for another month but it never hurt to start early.

The bell signaled another customer. Solas straightened up, rubbing his eyes open. It was the woman in the fine dress from before but in another, equally fine dress. This time, the fog of anger lifted from his gaze, he realized he might’ve seen her before. What had the boy called her? Valarie? Vanessa?

The garage door opened, Stal walking through, her hands miraculously almost clean. A genuine smile lit her face and Solas nearly forgot the hard woman he had seen before.

“Vivienne!”

“Stal, darling, how are you?”

The two woman clasped their hands together, the keys between them. The gesture seemed as intimate as a hug and Solas was unsure if he should be watching.

“How is my Royce?”

“Purring like a kitten,” Stal said, raising an eyebrow, “And I noticed your passenger seat warmer fuses were a little worn. Patched those up. Wouldn’t want any of your guests to suddenly be out a warm butt.”

Vivienne laughed, patting Stal’s hands a few time before letting go, the jingle of the keys disappearing into a sparkling clutch. “Thank you, dear. I appreciate your keen eyes, as always.”

Solas kept waiting for an exchange of cards, another quick hand pulling out a payment, anything. But as the two women talked, Solas saw no movement from the clutch. As the conversation wrapped up, Vivienne shot a quick glance over at him, her eyes ice, sending a chill down his spine. He averted his eyes from the conversation- no wonder they got along. Both women knew how to strike fear into people’s hearts.

“Well dear, I must be off,” Vivienne said, voice light as if the exchange between her and Solas had not happened. “People to meet, places to be. You _must_ join me for drinks sometime.”

“Of course, Viv. Just give me a day.”

“I’ll text you, darling.”

The woman spun quickly, her dress sparkling in the magic-hour light, the shadows on her face harsh as stone as she marched out the door. As the door closed and the bell jangled, Solas looked back towards Stal. She was already looking at him.

“You’re still here?”

“I-“ Solas cleared his throat, his voice raspy from disuse, “I do not live close. I really have no choice but to wait for the shampoo to be done.”

“Do you work tomorrow?”

An odd question. Quickly he evaluated what he had planned for tomorrow. “I don’t have work tomorrow, no.”

“Would you like a ride home? If you’d like I can drop off the car at your place tomorrow for a small fee. But the ride home is free,” she said, shrugging and pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Will it take that long?”

“Oh, no,” Stal said, standing straight, “Blackwall got the stains out. But there’s one more wash cycle to go to get the cleaner off and it’ll take some time to dry. Unless you feel like driving home with a wet butt.”

Solas felt the urge to groan but withheld it. This shop had done him a great favor and he needed to remember that, no matter how inconvenienced he was.

“I would hate to impose-“

She was around the counter, her hands on her hips. “It’s not imposing if I offer.”

He sighed. “Then I would very much appreciate the ride.”

Something was in the air heading towards him. Instinct took over and he reached out with his hand, grabbing the square out of the air. He looked down into his hand and saw a GPS.

“Put in your address and we’ll head out. I’ll start the car.”

The garage door slammed and Solas began typing his address into the GPS. Its screen was scratched half to hell and the case was dinged as if it had been dropped several times. If that was how she usually gave it to people, he smiled, than he wasn’t surprised.

A roar erupted from outside as he finished typing the area code. Someone needed a new muffler.

Solas stood, rolling his shoulders back and stretching. With a quick last look at the shop, he headed outside, the familiar ring of the bell over his head making the corners of his mouth twitch upwards.

A red four-door greeted him, the paint scratched, the headlights fogged, some body damage evident on the front bumper. Stal sat inside, fiddling with something on the dash. Though he wasn’t an expert on cars, he knew this was low-end, several years old. Climbing in, the smell of stale smoke hit his nostrils like a wall, his nose crinkling as he sat in the carpeted seats. Low, undistinguishable music was playing just quiet enough to be anonymous. Solas handed Stal the GPS. She looked at it, frowned, and nodded, setting the GPS into its stand on the dash. With one swift motion, her hands went from the gear shift to the wheel, the car lurching beneath him as he scrambled to get his seatbelt on. Her hands flitted across the gear shift again and she hit the accelerator, peeling out of the parking lot.

Solas dug his nails into his pants. This woman drove like _mad_. The GPS would begin to say “left” and the wheel would already be in motion, her foot on the gas, her eyes dead ahead. It took all his will not to clutch at the car door.

This day had been a series of… _interesting_ decisions. First the shop, then accepting the ride- what was next, going to a dive bar and drinking a Miller with men in cowboy hats?

Once they were out of town and on the highway, Solas relaxed some. He thought to count down the minutes until he would be free from this mechanic’s metal death trap, but looking at the GPS he realized they had already cut off ten minutes off the half-hour travel time.

“So, livin’ in the Hills, ownin’ a 3000GT- what do you do for a living?” she asked, filling the silence between them. Solas had nearly forgotten that small talk was pretty much required in this situation. He had been too busy sweating out his fear.

“I work for the Art Institute in the city,” he said, trying to relax his tense shoulders, “I curate one of the galleries there and also restore some of the work.”

“Art, then? Huh. Didn’t know there was good pay in art.”

Solas chuckled. “Generally, you’re not wrong. I was one of the lucky ones. I decided to pursue the history aspect instead of the technical aspect. Not many do and that’s why I have a salary.”

She didn’t laugh the way he thought she might. Instead she frowned as she had when she had seen his address.

“Not to say I don’t enjoy the technical aspect as well,” he backpedaled, “I wouldn’t be able to restore the work if I didn’t have experience or enjoy painting and other forms of art. My job does not leave a lot of time for side projects, however.”

“Do you always talk like this?”

Her eyebrows were knit tight together on her forehead. Talk like this? Talk like what? Before he could reply her hand was reaching over to his seat and he recoiled, back sinking into the scratchy upholstery. Her stained hand found the glovebox and popped it open. Inside was a mess of papers, napkins, and small tools. Her hand reached for the back and grabbed a small box. Her eyes never left the road.

The glovebox slammed shut. Solas blinked. Stal had already shaken a cigarette out of the carton.

“You mind?”

Absolutely.

“No.”

Stal’s hands left the wheel and his heart leapt to his throat. There was a click of a lighter and a crank of the window going down and then both her hands were back on the wheel. The car hadn’t even swerved.

It was her car, he reminded himself. She was doing him a favor and a little smoke wouldn’t kill him. Still, even as the wind took most of the secondhand vapors out the window, the soft curls of exhaust leaving her mouth reached his nose.

When she turned off the highway and the familiar rises of the Hills appeared, Solas began to relax. Soon this hell would be over and he could sit in his home and drink a glass of wine to forget.

Stal turned into the dense forest that marked the beginning of the Hills. Her speedometer read nearly twenty over the limit.

“I figure I should warn you-“ he started.

“There’s lots of bored cops here, I know, I know,” she mumbled, “Trust me, I know all their little hangout spots.”

Sure enough, as she wove through the narrow streets her speed would drop less than a minute before he noticed a cop parked along one of the driveways. As soon as she was around the curve her speed would increase again as if nothing had happened. It was expertly done and he was as impressed as he could be while still being mildly terrified.

No more than five minutes later she pulled into his long driveway, the car slowing to a crawl. She reached the turnaround and stopped. She made to throw the cigarette butt out the window but caught his eye and smashed it into one of her cup holders instead.

Unbuckling his seat belt (a chore given the amount of adrenaline her driving had given him) he managed to speak: “Thank you, the ride is much appreciated.”

She was silent and he looked up before opening the door. Stal was looking at his house with that same frown on her face, though he recognized it for what it was now- concentration.

“This is it?” she asked bluntly. Almost immediately her frown disappeared as realization dawned on her. “I didn’t mean-“

“It’s perfectly fine. You’re not the first to question my taste,” he admitted.

His home was humble compared to the rest of the Hills. Many in this area had three-stories and a basement, or brilliant architectural wonders of the modern age. One man a few miles down even had an observatory on his lot.

His one-floor home certainly did seem out of place.

Solas stepped out of the car, reaching into his pants pocket for his house key. “When can I expect my car tomorrow?”

“Do you need it by a certain time?”

“No,” he said, “I would just like to make sure I am presentable when it arrives.”

“Ten okay?”

“Ten is perfectly fine.”

“Ten it is.”

“Thank you again,” Solas said, more genuinely now that he was out of the car, “I will not forget that you saved me from being swindled for who knows how much longer and took the time out of your day to drive me home.”

Stal’s hard lips turned up in the slightest smile and he felt as if he’d won the day. “Beats a wet butt, right?”

Stal reached over and closed the passenger door the rest of the way before pulling away. As he watched the little red car disappear into the trees he pondered about the rigid little woman who had just driven him home. He checked his watch. The ride had only taken eighteen minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: This is my stress reliever!  
> Also me: Im ignoring my finals because mechanic au!


End file.
